A Tale of Three Witches
by GloriaNewt
Summary: After the Of-Witch inspection, Amelia reminisces over her school days and tells the tale of the three golden girls of the famed Witch Academy and describes how the inseperable trio grew apart and went their own, very different ways in life...
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note:**** A short little introduction to a fic that I have just started writing set in the aftermath of "The Inspector Calls" following a little idea that appeared amongst my doodles and refused to go away! Will hopefully update soon -quick little word of thanks to Long Vodka for playing ping pong with me over some ideas on this one. **

**Reviews always welcomed!**

The heavy main doors of Cackle's Academy shut with a reassuring clunk, the whistling autumnal draft being stoppered by the dense oak timbers, banishing the Academy's unwanted visitor out into the cold, the tall, imposing witch staggering away across the stone cobbles and muttering darkly beneath her breath as she wrapped her thick travelling cloak around herself and took no time in mounting her awaiting broomstick and rising elegantly into the sky.

Hecketty Broomhead did not accept defeat well, there was not an iota of lenience granted towards personal failure within the constraints of her demanding regime, however the sudden, painful reminder of her past had been more than enough to silence her usually acerbic tongue, stilling the threats in her throat and forcing her to comply meekly to the demands of Amelia Cackle without further questioning. She knew that she would do anything, including falsifying the assessment results of that disastrous educational establishment to prevent the public outcry that would envelop her if she and Wilhelmina Wormwood were found to be one and the same….

Xxx

Constance Hardbroom sank slowly into the welcoming comfort of the patched, faded armchair in the reassuring safety of the staffroom, both physically and mentally exhausted after the unexpected re-emergence of her feared tutor. She had felt her old wounds opening up one by one, the silver threads tearing open into searing, gashes which bled profusely in a never ending torrent of painful recollections and remorse as she was subjected to devastatingly familiar, icy, withering look of contempt as that their eyes had met once again, the clipped tones of her former tutor that she had hoped to never hear again boring into her relentlessly, forcibly dragging her darkest recollections to the surface of her laden mind. A brief return to the living hell that she had experienced at the brutal hands of that harsh, unrelenting woman.

She gratefully accepted a steaming, willow-patterned cup of tea from Amelia, her slender hands shaking so much that the porcelain cup juddered audibly within the restraints of the saucer as she fought to maintain her grip upon the delicate object, struggling to maintain her usual calm, dignified façade before the worried expression of her concerned colleague. A particularly violent tremor from her shaking wrist dislodged the vessel from its resting place and the cup plummeted to the floor, smashing into smithereens as the scalding brown liquid pooled untidily amongst the ruins on the stone floor.

"I'm sorry!" she gasped, abruptly snapping her fingers and deftly catching the newly re-formed cup as it sprang back into her hand from the floor, "Please forgive my carelessness, Amelia…"

Amelia Cackle surveyed the trembling woman carefully, deeply troubled by the flickering glimpse of fear and uncertainty that had been plaguing her usually indestructible deputy head ever since the announcement of the Of Witch Inspection, but now, she knew that Constance's fear was entirely understandable, having witnessed the intense, raging insanity of Wilhelmina Warlock first-hand. Heaven knows what atrocities she had committed as a personal tutor, and to think how different things had been initially…

"She's gone, Constance," she placed a caring arm around the stiff, unyielding shoulders of her deputy head in a bid to comfort her, "Gone for good!"

A faint, disbelieving shuffle beneath her outstretched limb informed her that Constance wasn't quite as confident in that statement as she was.

She stared up at Amelia cautiously, biting back the stream of questions that she longed to express, an agonised expression of despair spreading slowly across her gaunt features as the vivid memories of her time spent at the infamous Witch Training College began to resurface in alarming clarity, dis-jointed images of the dark cells, the non-existent chinks of light, the dank, damp, mould- infested living quarters and the constant noise of the inhuman screaming- oh the screaming! The heart-wrenching, ear-splitting symphony of pain and anguish that had echoed so frequently within the bare walls of the legalised torture chambers as the inmates shrieked and pleaded for mercy in the chosen key of the sadistic maestro that was Hecketty Broomhead.

She choked as blazing tears began to well up behind her resisting hazel eyes, stubbornly wiping the back of her bony hand across her eyes before her feelings could be betrayed by the cowardly tears. A simple question fell unopposed from between her lips, an almost pleading tone present as she sought some form of company and understanding within her lonely distress.

"You knew her?"

The simple question was fearful, yet curious as she sought to further her understanding of the demonic witch who had so nearly drained her very existence away from her.

Amelia sighed heavily as she soothed Constance's tears from her soft cheeks with a gentle caress of her wrinkled hand.

"Oh, I knew Wilhelmina Wormwood very well indeed," she replied grimly, her revelation accompanied by a harsh, humourless bark of laughter that escaped humourlessly from within her as the bitter memories of her past resurfaced once more.

"For quite some time, she was my best friend in the entire world."

Constance let out an audible gasp of shock as she stared at Amelia, incapable of speech at the knowledge that her friend and sole confident had been friends with that monster! That soulless torturer who had almost crushed the final, wavering spark of life from within her!

"What?" she breathed urgently, clutching tightly onto the Headmistress's wrist in panic, desperately wishing that her disbelieving ears were not hearing the damning statement that hung uneasily in the air between the two women, "Amelia, what on earth?"

Amelia exhaled slowly as she met the fear-stricken gaze of her deputy head.

"It's a very long story, it was all an incredibly long time ago…" she began to protest wearily before Constance interrupted her abruptly.

"Tell me," she whispered quietly, still gently enough to be considered a request for knowledge rather than a demand, but with an added degree of insistence as she sought the opportunity to provide stillness to her racing mind and lay the eternal fears and doubts over her past that plagued her continually to rest, to finally begin to address the agonising thorn in her side that was Hecketty Broomhead.

"Please..." a faint plea escaped from between her dark lips as her tear-laden eyes stared unblinkingly into the pale blue depths of Amelia's eyes, the woman who held the previously unreachable key to beginning to understand her past, the opening of the path to understanding Hecketty Broomhead, her steady, determined rise to notoriety and the adoption of her vindictive, brutal methods.

One loved, one revered, one hated, but all respected in their own ways. The three golden girls of the esteemed Witch Academy, the pick of their generation, their impeccable academic performance showing them to be destined for greatness. The inseparable trio of friends who were Phyllis Pentangle, the highly intelligent orator and chanter who had gone on to found Pentangles Academy single-handedly, a thriving and eminently respected school, Amelia, the gentle, nurturing witch with the amazing capacity for experimental spells who had inherited her proud grandmother's ancient institution, Cackle's Academy, and Wilhelmina Wormwood, the unnervingly quiet, focused young girl who was the thrice winner of the All-European Witch Schools' award for Advanced Potions before she reached the tender age of fourteen, the small, introverted little girl with the long pigtails who had secretly undergone the terrifying transformation into the legendary educator Hecate Broomhead, head of the famed WTC, the highly selective training college that was the only establishment that stood upon equal ground academically with the illustrious Weirdsister College. How differently they had all turned out, reflected Amelia as she sat with her arm around the trembling shoulders of Constance Hardbroom, unable to ignore the hauntingly beseeching look that was present in abundance in her hazel eyes.

She relented and settled comfortably into a neighbouring chair, bracing her fingers together arms across her plump frame as she began to recount the distant memories of her schooldays, her warm, friendly voice washing over Constance who was visibly clinging on to her every word as her gentle tones effortlessly painted the vivid descriptions of the senior witches past, shades of colour appearing within the previously sketchy, monochrome outlines as her steady narration began to untangle the web of intrigue that surrounded the murky background of the feared witch.

**To be continued…**


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note: A huge thank you to everyone who left such lovely reviews and PM's on chapter one of this fic! Anything written in bold is set in the present day, but most of this chapter is written in the past. This next chapter is an introduction to Amelia's arrival at Witch Academy and starts to outline some of the events in Wilhelmina/Heckitty's past, although there is still an awful lot more to happen in future chapters…**

**Reviews are always welcome! *offers piece of my virtual birthday cake to all readers***

"_**A long time ago," began Amelia, clearing her throat and allowing the memories of the distant past to resurface once more inside her mind, "I was successful in gaining a place at the esteemed Witch Academy, and that was where I first encountered the two girls who were to become my best friends, Phyllis Pentangle and Wilhelmina Warlock…."**_

xxx

The swirling mists cleared in the sky as a searching ray of sunlight broke through the dappled clouds, illuminating the tall, imposing grey castle that was to be Amelia's home for the next five years. She stared up in wonder at the elegant sophistication of the older girls as they glided effortlessly through the turbulent sky on their trusted broomsticks, their dark, navy cloaks billowing behind them, inky shadows outlining their graceful forms, descending gently into the awaiting courtyard like a migrating flock of birds home to roost for the winter. It was her very first day at the renowned Witch Academy, the famed halls of learning that were available to only a very selectively chosen few, those who had demonstrated precocious magical ability well beyond their tender years, the elite pick of their generation, and she was determined to seize the opportunity with both hands, to work and study hard, to make the effort to shine with all her might.

She was clad in the regulation uniform, a tall, pointed navy hat with a cream band around the base, a crisp white blouse, shining, black leather, laced shoes and a long, untailored navy blue gymslip that fell almost to the floor in its trailing length, her mother having insisted upon buying everything three sizes too large in the blind faith that she would "grow into it". Amelia had always been small in stature, and she knew that age wasn't ever going to improve upon her lack of height, but had stood patiently with her aching arms raised parallel to her shoulders for what seemed like an interminable age as the elderly seamstress plucked and fussed over the details of the garment, each uniform being handmade at the specified outfitters.

She shivered uncomfortably as she pulled her navy cloak tightly around her shoulders, the biting cold of the autumnal breeze creeping stealthily around her as it fought to chill her further as she stared miserably across the courtyard at her twin sister, Agatha. There was no love lost between the two girls, the similarity to each other beginning and ending solely in appearance, their two characters being as unalike as it was possible to be. She pursed her lips, a slight frown breaking out across her young forehead as she watched her confident, ebullient younger sister chattering merrily to the assembled first years, laughing and conversing with a natural ease that the shy Amelia had never possessed. What angered her most was the fact that she had worked hard to achieve her place at the Witch Academy by merit, for a long time being the only one of the two sisters who would be attending the academy, for once delighting in the petulant scowl that had spread across her sisters face as she learnt that it was Amelia who had triumphed over her in the final interviews, falling into an increasingly sour mood for the duration of the summer as all the attention was directed towards Amelia. However, a fortnight before term was due to begin, a girl had withdrawn from her place after her family had emigrated unexpectedly to America, leaving a place vacant in the first year, which was promptly offered to Agatha Cackle, partly because she had shown the promise for advanced magical ability at interview, but mostly because she was the sister of another witch who had already successfully gained a place, and had the advantage of being from a well-known, established family of successful witches, the Cackle dynasty being known and trusted for generations with the education of young witches.

It had been Granny Cackle's express wish that neither of the twins had been educated at  
>Cackles Academy, claiming that despite the fact that she loved and cherished her young grandchildren dearly, she felt that neither of them would be able to escape the stigma of being the favoured grandchildren of the Headmistress, and would be forever dubbed "teacher's pets" by their disgruntled fellow year mates, an uncomfortable scenario that she wished to avoid for the sake of both the young girls following the unrelenting bullying that their mother had faced following her arrival at Cackle's. This decision had lead the twins to be rigorously schooled in the basic skills of the art of magic before the school age, a measure to try to ensure that they were advanced enough to easily gain entry to the prestigious schools on offer, to maximise their learning potential and fully utilise the strong magical inclinations that both girls had shown at an extremely young age. Within a few years of her birth, Amelia was already performing complex, subconscious magic with an unnerving flare and panache for her tender years, allowing her magic to tend to her simplest needs without the slightest need for incantations, a particular instance being when in the blazing summer heat, her raging thirst had caused her to remotely summon a refreshing barrel of icy lemonade into existence, its bewitched contents never running dry for the entire span of the relentless heat wave.<p>

A friendly tap on the shoulder made her flinch and jump nervously as a friendly looking young witch waved vigorously as she introduced herself, her confident, well-spoken tones allowing a little warmth of certainty to creep back into Amelia's nervous resolve.

"Hullo there! You new here as well?"

She nodded meekly, slightly in awe of the tall, stockily built girl who had made her acquaintance, cautiously accepting and shaking the strong hand that had been proffered, wincing slightly beneath the crushing grip of the other girl's tight handshake.

"Phyllis is the name, Phyllis Pentangle!" the other witch smiled broadly back at her, her deep blue eyes twinkling mischievously from behind an unflatteringly thick pair of spectacles that dominated her strong facial features, her mousy blonde hair settled neatly beneath her regulation hat in a stern, short bob, before pausing thoughtfully and gently mocking her lack of utterance.

"Don't say much, do you?"

Amelia cleared her throat, "I've hardly had the chance to!" she muttered obstinately beneath her breath, slightly annoyed at the bold, brashness of her new compatriot.

Instead of being insulted, the other girl let loose a mighty bark of laughter at the deft reply, her infectious chortles soon reducing Amelia to a fit of giggles as the two witches laughed, partly at each other's reactions, but also at the absurdity of the situation and the scandalised looks that they were receiving from the graceful older girls, a slight look of distain present upon their fine features as they stared coldly at the undignified display that the two new girls were making of themselves.

Choking back any further waves of laughter and massaging her aching ribs, Amelia smiled brightly back at her new friend, a reassured twinkle appearing within her sparkling blue eyes as she finally introduced herself.

"Amelia, Amelia Cackle" she offered by means of a reply.

"Glad to meet you, Amelia!" Phyllis smiled.

The two girls chatted on for a little while before she gestured wearily to the accumulated heap of belongings that were heaped messily in front of them, "I suppose we should really do something about taking these indoors, I don't suppose they'd fancy a night out on the cobbles!"

She bent down from her impressive height to reclaim her suitcase, Amelia mirroring her actions, but stumbling forward and landing heavily upon the unforgiving cobbles, wincing as her bare knee made contact with the sharp stones, grazing the pale skin and releasing little droplets of blood from her wounded limb. She blinked confusedly at the sight of her suitcase lying five feet away from where she had reached for it.

"What happened to you?" enquired Phyllis curiously, reaching out and pulling Amelia to her feet, "I'm sure that your case was next to mine…"

Amelia shrugged her shoulders perplexedly, stepping forwards and once again trying to pick up her elusive suitcase. Just as she reached the critical point of balance, the case darted forward once more of its own accord and left her sprawling untidily upon the ground, cursing faintly beneath her breath.

"What the…"

Both witches were now eying the case warily as if it would rear up without warning upon its tan leather hinges and attempt to bite them with the savage silver zip and buckles. A supressed, malicious giggle caused them to wheel around and stare angrily at their tormentor.

Agatha Cackle was standing behind them, surrounded by a swarming group of eager first years who were hanging on her every action as she commanded the movements of the suitcase with a lazy flick of her casting fingers.

"Dearie me, your reflexes never were very fast, were they sister dearest?" she taunted wickedly, enjoying the mounting look of despair and humiliation that was sweeping across her sister's face in a visible flush of fuchsia pink at the overwhelming embarrassment of having the critical forest of eyes of her fellow students fall mockingly upon her in her predicament.

Trying to push the jeering insults from her sister out of her head, Amelia turned her back and she and Phyllis once more made a determined grab for the errant suitcase, both outpaced by Agatha's deft movement as they fell into a tangled heap upon the stony floor.

By now the case was travelling in a brisk figure of eight over their heads as they lay winded upon the mossy cobbles, Agatha teasingly allowing the desired object to dip lower over their heads, skimming their brows, but remaining infuriatingly out of reach, her spell impenetrable to the feeble magical resistance offered by Amelia as she unsuccessfully tried to focus her aim upon the floating object from her prone position upon the cold, stony ground.

"Stop it!" a quiet, authoritative voice broke through the crowd, the hushed tones silencing the crowd without resorting to the slightest rise in volume, the magnitude of power behind the soft voice quelling the storm of noise as the gathered swarm parted like waves in the ocean to reveal a small, thin witch with long, mousey pigtails that draped over her thin shoulders, a determined gaze of frightening intensity burning from her dark grey eyes as she raised her outstretched arm to parry the force of Agatha's enchantment, a burst of bright blue sparks emitting from her outstretched fingertips, provoking a surprised gasp from the assembled crowd as the case zoomed into her awaiting arms.

Agatha wheeled around, an evil glint present in her eye as she saw the distinctly insignificant figure of the witch who had abruptly prevented her from the enjoyable act of publically tormenting her inferior sibling.

"And just who do you think you are?" she snarled, sparks emitting from her fingers in angry flashes of colour at the indignity of being usurped by the quiet, unassuming witch who reminded her so much of her own hated twin. Before she could utter another syllable, a bolt of red light hit her squarely in the face and she disappeared rapidly from view. Sitting in her place and hopping madly in a steaming rage upon the mossy ground was a small green frog that was croaking at the top of its voice, absolutely incensed at the direct breech of the revered Witches Code that had led to her unexpected transformation.

The dangerously quiet little girl stepped forwards smartly and picked up the infuriated amphibian that had until recently been her bullying classmate and looked directly into its bulging, dark eyes, a faint smile of amusement playing around her thin lips as she addressed the frog.

"Shhh," she said, her thin fingers pinching tightly around the frog's neck, causing it to gulp urgently beneath her grasp and fall silent, "My name," she began, her lilting voice barely rising above a contained whisper, "is Wilhelmina Warlock, and I don't take kindly to being shouted at!"

The frog blinked as she continued to whisper inaudibly to it, a look of terror dawning upon its frightened features as a string of threats were breathed from the mouth of its captor, disguised behind an amused smile as she set the frog back upon the ground and walked over to offer a hand to the two witches who were picking themselves up from the floor.

"Yours, I think…" she smiled politely as she handed back the suitcase to Amelia who was still gaping at the frog who moments before had been her hated sister. Wilhelmina followed her line of sight and an apologetic look appeared upon her face. "I'm sorry," she began uncertainly, "But she was being utterly…"

Any further words were cut off by Amelia as she turned to her saviour with an incredulous look on her face, "Don't apologise!" she chided happily, "I've been longing to do that for years!"

"All the same," muttered a thoughtful Phyllis as she looked cautiously around the teeming courtyard, "I think we'd better turn her back before she attracts the attention of any of the members of staff…"

"Ah, yes. Allow me," Wilhelmina turned and muttered the counter-spell beneath her breath and within seconds a rather dishevelled looking Agatha Cackle appeared, sprawled upon the ground, panting heavily as she massaged her throat and clambered heavily to her feet, straightening her robes and throwing a filthy look at the trio of witches, opening her mouth to hurl a timely insult at them but paused, thinking better of it as she saw the fury that was still dancing secretly within the eyes of her attacker. She brushed herself down and stalked off to re-join the comforting crowd of her perplexed friends, ungracious as ever in defeat.

Amelia turned to her unlikely saviour and smiled delightedly. "What on earth did you say to her?" she questioned interestedly, burning curiosity rising within her as to how her manipulative sister seemed to have effortlessly fallen under the spell of the other witch.

Wilhelmina smiled secretively and tapped the side of her button nose with her finger, "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you…"

"I just hope she doesn't run to tell tales to the teacher…" worried Phyllis, causing Amelia to visibly pale. That act was exactly the sort of thing that her wretched sister would do.

"Oh, I'm sure she won't," continued Wilhelmina confidently, folding her arms across her bony chest as she stared unblinkingly after the retreating figure of Agatha Cackle, a slight hint of menace present for a scarce moment in her level tones before her voice brightened again, "In fact, I'm certain that she won't trouble us at all from now on…"

She smiled properly for the first time as she introduced herself to her new friends, "Wilhelmina Wormwood, but only people I detest tend to call me Wilhelmina, I'm Mina to friends!"

"Well, I hope we fall into the latter category!" joked Phyllis, raising a questioning eyebrow as she looked down from her towering height.

"Certainly," replied Wilhelmina in her quiet tones, a slightly wistful note entering her voice, an inflection that went largely unnoticed by her new friends, "One can choose ones friends, but unfortunately not ones family…"

Amelia gazed at her new friend in wonder as the trio of girls strolled proudly across the courtyard, oblivious to the stares of contempt being thrown at them by a fuming Agatha and her new gang of friends, amazed at the cool efficiency and logic that Wilhelmina had displayed, unflappable and serenely calm, it was hard to believe that such as small child could command such instant respect from others.

"Well," commented Phyllis, smiling at back at Wilhelmina as the three witches walked across the welcoming threshold of the hallowed halls of learning for the first time, summoned by a precise toll from the single bell suspended from above the entrance, staring up in wonder at the sweeping stone arches, littered with threatening gargoyles and ornately sculpted figurines, enchantments and sorcery engrained deep within the fabrics of the ancient castle, the very walls and timbers dancing with an almost visible magical vitality, their fellow first years joining them in a cramped cluster as Phyllis leaned forward and whispered in Wilhelmina's ear, "It's a good thing you were there Mina, being attacked by a vicious flying suitcase wasn't exactly what I imagined my first day at Witch Academy to consist of!"

Wilhelmina laughed, a faint tinkling expression of mirth, her mood brightening as she looked towards the brightening dawn of her future, resisting the sudden urge to cheer as she stood at the foot of the main staircase, staring up wordlessly at the ornate spiral of beautifully decorated wrought-iron bannisters, the black sheen of the ornately cast metal contrasting elegantly with the gleaming white marble steps, a rising feeling of pride practically glowing within her as she stood, knowing that her life was about to change for good, the opportunity to embrace the skills of her calling and study hard to hone her strong magical abilities.

Neat, small footsteps ringing smartly in the lofty acoustic announced the prompt arrival of a tall, imposing witch in striking robes of navy blue as she swept into view around the corner of the mighty staircase, a black, leather-bound register clutched tightly to her chest, her auburn hair, liberally streaked with glistening strands of grey was arranged into a small, neat bun at the base of her neck, her piercing, sapphire eyes sweeping the assembled crowd for the slightest hint of misbehaviour sparkled with interest and love for her profession, her complexion a flawless pale porcelain, delicately coloured by a faint, pale pink flush that sat upon her high cheekbones, a true English rose in every sense. Letitia Selwyn, proud headmistress of the elitist Witch Academy paused upon the bottom step of the sweeping staircase and consulted the small watch face which hung upon a long, golden chain around her slender waist, satisfying herself in the knowledge that she was impeccably punctual before smiling at her new flock of protégés, a revered hush falling as soon as the powerful sorceress opened her rosebud lips to speak.

"Good morning girls," her low, reassuring tones echoed within the lofty acoustics, a gentle but firm voice that bore tremendous authority and strength, "May I take the greatest pleasure in welcoming you to the Witch Academy! You should take great pride in the fact that you have gained a much sought-after place in these revered halls of magical education, use your time here wisely, a chance to exercise your thirst for knowledge, delight in academic discovery, reassured in the knowledge that you are the select few witches from across the globe who have shown that they have the potential to develop into the most talented witches of their generation!"

She paused momentarily to add impact to her impressive speech, opening the heavy register before continuing.

"My name is Mistress Selwyn and I am the headmistress of this establishment, although I believe I have previously had the pleasure of making your acquaintance at the final interview stages. Please answer clearly to the affirmative when I call your name and one of the older girls will assist you in finding your allocated room. Luncheon will be served at 1 o'clock precisely in the Dining Hall where you will be introduced to the rest of the student body and receive your regulation black cats and broomsticks as well as your timetables for classes which shall commence from tomorrow morning."

A brief snap of her casting fingers and a small pair of silver framed reading glasses appeared instantly upon the bridge of her nose, an accessory that did not age her unnecessarily, but leant a further air of distinguished expertise to her presence.

"Millicent Aconite!"

"P-present, Mistress Selwyn" stammered a shy-looking girl with bobbed, blonde hair, almost dropping her suitcase in shock at being addressed personally by the superior witch.

A further snap of the Headmistress's fingers and a tall girl, also clad in the school uniform materialised from thin air at the shoulder of the new pupil before smiling reassuringly and producing a room key with a large number "1" and Millicent's name written in immaculate copperplate writing on the label attached to it.

"Follow Harriet," prompted Mistress Selwyn, gently motioning with her outstretched hand along the empty corridor, "She'll show you to your room, Millicent."

"Yes, Mistress Selwyn," whispered the awe-struck pupil before following her guide along the twisting maze of passages to her awaiting room.

Xxx

Amelia sighed in delight as she was shown into room number 7, a beautifully decorated room with pale cream woodwork and William Morris trellis-print wallpaper, and a luxuriously thick, cream carpet which was incredibly soft beneath the foot. A sumptuous looking, brass-framed bed with a matching quilt and pillow cases stood in the corner of the room and delicately framed photographs of Amelia's family stood proudly upon the glass-topped dressing table in the curved alcove. The shutters in the window were wide open and a bright beam of morning sunlight was breaking through the previously misty skies, pouring into the room and washing away the bleakness of the dawn ,proudly revealing the stunning view offered across the country landscape in glorious detail, the numerous, hedgerow-lined fields spread out for miles in a patchwork quilt of colours and textures from the vantage point offered from the lofty peak, the trees swaying softly in the breeze that rippled gently through the woodland forest that surrounded the academy in its veil of secrecy, invisible to prying mortal eyes.

"It's beautiful…." She whispered beneath her breath as she gazed in wonder around the room, her wildest expectations fulfilled many times over as she took in the wondrous sight in front of her.

"It's fantastic, isn't it?" grinned Emily, her guide for the day as she gestured into the room, "There's a personal-decorative charm that's placed upon all the rooms. Nobody knows what they are going to look like until a new student moves into the chambers, they will automatically adapt to suit the personality and tastes of the individual concerned!"

Amelia nodded wordlessly as she set her suitcase upon the floor, still captivated by the gorgeous surroundings that had been created especially for her, a faint lump of emotion rising in her throat which she brushed aside, slightly embarrassed at the foolish display of emotion that a simple, but thoughtful décor spell had invoked within her. Her room, her private quarters which she would inhabit for the next five years, a far cry from the drab, grey chambers that whistled with draughts at all times where she had stayed at Cackle's Academy during the long summers spent with Granny Cackle.

Emily touched her briefly upon the shoulder in a bid to regain her attention, "I'll leave you to settle in and unpack," she said kindly, evidently amused by the rapt attention that the young witch was paying to her new surroundings, "Luncheon will be served in an hour's time in the Dining Hall. Go back down the Long corridor and turn left at the staircase."

Breaking out of her daydream, Amelia stooped to pick up her case and busied herself with allocating her small selection of garments to the appropriate compartments within the nearby chest of drawers, still unable to quite comprehend that she was indeed the rightful owner of such luxurious accommodation.

Xxx

"Wretched cat!" muttered Phyllis as her newly acquired feline companion took an incensed swipe at the back of her hand, mistaking her fingers once more for its long-awaited dinner, inciting a loud sneeze from the young witch as it rubbed its furry snout against the back of her hand, bearing needle-sharp teeth, "I think I'm allergic to the dammed things!"

The clock in the tower struck midnight, making the three girls jump at the sudden noise that punctuated the inky night sky. Phyllis and Wilhelmina had crept breathlessly along the darkened corridors to see Amelia and discuss the many exciting events of the day.

Amelia chuckled quietly as she gestured wordlessly to the large, plump, well-rounded cat that was snoozing contentedly on her lap, a blissful smile present on its furry face as it dreamed of drinking milk and eating mice all day long without the annoyance of having to move from the warm spot where it was curled up restfully.

"Did they say the cats are supposed to reflect our personalities?" she joked, staring in disbelief at the lethargic animal that had done little apart from sleep from the minute that she had received it, "How on earth is she going to be able to sit up on a broomstick if she's never awake!"

"Huh!" snorted Phyllis in disgust, still distracted by the persistent attempts made by her cat to render her fingerless, "I'd much rather have an owl!" she sighed, "My mother has a particularly fine tawny owl who used to fly alongside her on her broomstick, never used to tire, wonderful, faithful creatures owls…"

"I think," began Wilhelmina dreamily as she stared out at the night sky, absent mindedly ruffling the fur of her contented, purring companion, "I'll call my cat Asteria..."

"Asteria?" questioned Amelia interestedly.

"Greek goddess of the stars," explained Wilhelmina with a shy smile, gesturing at the perfect night-time skies which were littered with thousands of faint dots of sparkling light from constellations many millions of miles away, "Rather fitting, I thought, elegant too…"

"I suppose I could always turn you into an owl…" said Phyllis, holding her now spitting cat up to eye level, regarding the noisy creature with nothing short of pure contempt. "If I ever own my own school, I shall make sure of the fact that a cat shall not be allowed within a ten mile radius!"

Amelia laughed, "Do you really want your own school, Phyllis?" she questioned.

"Why ever not?" pondered Phyllis, "Mother thought about becoming a teacher as well when she was younger, but got side-tracked into potions research, that's before she met father and decided to settle down after I was born. I'm sure they would both support me whatever I decide to do in the future, they were both so stunned that I managed to pass the entrance exam for this school!"

Amelia sighed, hugging her knees through her thin nightgown, "My family have always owned the academy for as long as it can remember, its passed down from generation to generation of witches," she explained, "I grew up in the very grounds of that castle! I still remember my mother taking me for my first broomstick ride over the tops of the turrets for a special surprise on my fifth birthday- I was scared senseless! I suppose that it shall fall to me or my sister to take charge at Cackle's one day…"

Phyllis pulled a face, "Not Agatha!" she shook her head as the earlier memory of her sole encounter with Amelia's sister, "Not unless you are determined to ruin a family reputation that has gone unblemished for the past five hundred years!"

Amelia turned to Wilhelmina who had gone dangerously quiet, staring blankly into thin air, her fingernails digging tightly into the soft flesh of the palms of her hands as she clenched and unclenched her fingers repeatedly, her narrow shoulders shaking with suppressed rage.

"What about you, Mina?" she questioned lightly, "What's your family like?"

A harsh yowl came from her right as the newly-named Asteria was harshly evicted from her comfortable resting place, left to sprawl uncomfortably upon the floor, wailing in her distress as Wilhelmina sprang abruptly to her feet as if she had been burnt by the other girl's well-meaning words of inquiry.

"Do not," she hissed quietly, emotion building rapidly behind her choking voice, tears welling up in the blazing, grey eyes as she glared furiously back at her two bewildered friends, "Do not, ever mention my family again!"

She swept determinedly past them and wrenched the heavy oak door open, disappearing rapidly into the swirling darkness of the passageway, leaving only a stifled sob behind her as she fled from the cosy chamber, the previously contented atmosphere souring and turning bitter within seconds as the uncomfortable feeling of unease fed upon the confusion that was rife within the minds of the two remaining witches.

"What on earth?" questioned Phyllis, staring at the empty space on the eiderdown which had been occupied until moments before by their new friend.

"What did I say?" puzzled Amelia, a worried expression spreading across her young features as she recalled the intense look of hurt and unbridled fury that had contorted Wilhelmina's face into a deadly rage.

Phyllis shrugged, nonplussed by the situation, "Maybe it's better just to leave her to get it out of her system?" she wondered thoughtfully.

Amelia nodded uncertainly, before considering the situation further.

"I can't Phyllis, I'd never sleep until I at least apologised to her!" she protested after a moment's procrastination.

"Well," suggested Phyllis, bundling her screeching cat into her arms as she stood up, "She's in room Forty Three, next-door to me, maybe we should go and talk to her if she's gone back to her room?"

Amelia agreed and pulled her navy cloak on over her nightshirt, tiptoeing along the corridor of sleeping students, wary of awakening Mistress Selwyn, who she was certain would not take kindly to finding first years out of bed at midnight, personal dispute or no personal dispute.

Xxx

Amelia paused outside the ajar door of Room 43, listening attentively to see if she could detect the presence of her friend. Peering through the crack between door and frame, she was intrigued by what she saw…

Xxx

Wilhelmina Wormwood sat at her dressing table in the semi-darkness of the moonlight-illuminated room, staring unblinkingly at her tear-stained complexion in the mirror as another wave of remorse passed through her as the painful reality of her situation struck her once more. Her trembling fingers reached out and picked up the ornate silver photo frame that sat neatly upon her ordered table, raising the photograph to eye-level as she stared back at the loathed occupants of the depiction.

An official-looking family portrait confronted her eyes, the only picture that her parents had bothered to ever have taken with her, a tall wizard with a hawk-like expression upon his pinched, lean face sat bolt-upright upon a comfortable looking chaise-lounge with his right arm protectively around the shoulders of his mousy-looking wife, a look of fierce possession present in his narrow eyes as the happy couple smiled conservatively towards the lens, a little child with long pigtails sat rigidly upon her father's lap, dressed up fussily in a frilly, Sunday dress of black velvet and white lace, not taken in at all by the staged affection with which he was regarding her, a slightly petulant frown crossing her young face as she silently pleaded with the cameraman to end her growing torment.

She knew that she was nothing more than a possession to her parents, a porcelain doll to be dressed up in pretty frocks, paraded in front of her father's affluent, aspiring business partners like a treasured artefact, her purpose in life nothing more than to be stared at like the stuffed animals behind the glass cases in her father's study, the wounded creatures preserved for an eternity, their heartbeat forever stilled in the "noble art" that was shooting, black, beady eyes contorted in pain as they grimaced towards their captive audience, deathly facsimiles of their majestic, former selves.

She smiled bitterly upon the staged scene, wiping the miniscule flecks of dust away from the glass that separated her from her family. "It might as well have been a brick wall…" she thought sadly to herself, setting the photo back upon the dressing table as she struggled to think of the last time that she had been shown the slightest iota of love or acceptance from her family.

Wilhelmina bit her lips in a bid to stem further tears of remorse as the blissful recollections filled her mind once more, the details of the happy childhoods spent with their doting families, the wondrous upbringings that Amelia and Phyllis had had, nurtured, supported, encouraged and coaxed all the way to their present post, whereas she had learnt early on that she was to survive without the slightest notion of approval or praise from the strict standards of her domineering father, her weak-willed mother powerless to intervene as he struck her roughly around the face with unrelenting force every time that her magic fluttered and died at the youthful fingertips of her inexperienced hands, determined that his "precious little Wilhelmina" would be nothing short of perfection in every single way. The beatings continued with alarming regularity as she sought only to gain his approval, barely wincing as the outstretched hand flew rapidly towards her trembling features, dread rising within her at the slightest hint of failure as she attempted to demonstrate the results of her continual labour, working incessantly to gain her passport to freedom, the invincible place at the Witch Academy, the only establishment that her father would deign to consider worthy enough for her future prospects, a small fraction of independence hanging above her like a glistening, golden key as she fixed her determined mind upon being admitted to the revered seat of learning.

Today, she sighed, having no more tears to shed from her aching eyes, the sensitive flesh red raw from the corrosive salt of her tears, was another day, another supposedly meaningless day in the drab, grey world of her existence, the slight abatement to the consistent pain being provided in the brief encounter with the two girls who had so far shown her nothing but love and kindness, her hope for the future. However, the new day that was dawning hopefully across the land, brought renewed hope with it, the sun attempting to rise within the stormy, clouded heart as the first rays of her new life began to break through the clouds, smiling secretly to herself as she began to sing softly beneath her breath to the watching reflection in the mirror.

"Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me…."

"Happy Birthday, dear Mina, Happy Birthday to you…" another, floating soprano voice had joined in behind her as Amelia Cackle leant forward and embraced her friend gently, whispering her quiet apologies into the ear of her new friend, deeply touched by the melancholy sight of the girl sitting sobbing at her dressing table, the iron defences allowed to fall for one brief moment as the torment of her past rose again to confront her.

Wilhelmina said nothing, but stared quietly into the mirror at the girl who was still embracing her gently, shivering slightly at the friendly, human contact that she had been devoid of for so long, the comforting warmth of another caring presence the most cherished birthday gift that she had ever received in her short life.

Xxx

"_**And so," paused Amelia, glancing at Constance who was listening attentively to her every word, "That was my first encounter with Wilhelmina Wormwood, a peculiarly quiet girl, with so many mysterious secrets hanging over her young shoulders, secrets, which would inevitably rise up and confront her once again"…**_


End file.
